


Thou'lt Come No More

by sphinxvictorian



Category: Slings and Arrows
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinxvictorian/pseuds/sphinxvictorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver needs to see Geoffrey one last time.  He wants to say goodbye properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thou'lt Come No More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lostinthefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthefire/gifts).



It was awfully cold. Why was it that being a ghost still meant that you were so very damnably cold? Oliver would have thought that temperature should mean nothing to a disembodied spirit, but that was just something else he’d been wrong about. So here he was wishing that he’d been wearing his biggest overcoat when that damn pig truck had hit him. It was all right when he was inside, but just now he couldn’t go inside.

Well, he could, but he had already vanished as far as Geoffrey knew, into some ethereal nothingness. Instead, he was standing outside of Geoffrey and Ellen’s house, watching them be domestic together. It always made him feel wistful, watching them. Even when they’re fighting, they’re both so lovely. They really do fit together. He’d been mad to get between them. Hell, he certainly hadn’t enjoyed his night with Ellen. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the revenge part, he always enjoyed that, but he hadn’t enjoyed the sex as much as he’d hoped.

Silly, really. After all, the bisexual thing was always a bit of an act. There had only ever been one person in his life that he loved, and that person was standing in the living room behind Ellen’s chair, eating an apple and making snide comments about the program she was watching on the television.  
Oliver watched as she shied a pillow over her shoulder at Geoffrey and he ducked, laughing. Then Geoffrey threw himself onto the couch and began to monologue about something dramatic.

The cold was really starting to seep in to his non-existent bones, so Oliver reluctantly moved on. Why didn’t he want to bother Geoffrey anymore? That was unusual. Why had he just decided it was time to leave, right there at that amazing performance of Lear? Perhaps he was getting to be a sentimental old thing. How dull and boring! He’d meant to leave for good, but somehow it hadn’t happened. And then Charles had seen him, in the mirror, just before he died. Dear, cantankerous old Charles. He certainly didn’t stay for long. But somehow Oliver had lingered, when he really thought he would have followed Charles off into the afterlife, whatever that might be.

Instead he’d just landed back at the New Burbage Theatre, in one of the rehearsal rooms. The room was empty and, though warmer than the outside, still colder than he’d like. He drifted through the building, looking for something to do. He had never thought that the afterlife would be so deadly dull. Giving Geoffrey a hard time was about the only fun to be had, and he wasn’t even able to do that anymore.

Just then, he’d passed Cyril and Frank in the hallway, chattering away about getting down to the pub and the state of their dressing room. As he passed them, Frank and Cyril had both said, “Hello, Oliver, good to see you, mate!”

Oliver stopped dead in his tracks and whirled to follow after them.

“So I said to Geoffrey, I said –“

“Wait a minute! You can see me?”

“God, yes, Oliver. We’ve been able to see you for some time now. I’m psychic and Frank’s part gypsy, so there you go,” Cyril said, matter-of-factly as Oliver caught up and stood in front of them.

“Why did you never say anything before?”

“Well, you and Geoffrey had your little problems to sort out, we didn’t like to interfere. He and Ellen seem to be happy, for the moment, so now you’re at a bit of a loss, aren’t you, me old dear?”

Oliver drew himself up indignantly, but then deflated a second later, admitting, “Yes, it’s true. I am. It’s no fun anymore, boys. He’s happy, and fulfilled, at least for now, and I just can’t seem to get myself to spoil it again.”

“’Course not, ducky. Even a cantankerous old spirit like you has to let bygones be bygones at some point. Especially when you love someone. Isn’t that right, Frank?”

“Absolutely, Cyril, absolutely. Time to let it go, old son.”

“I’m ready to, boys, I really am. But I can’t seem to make it happen. How do I get to the next stage? What is the next stage? Peace? One long hell?”

“Oh, can’t help you there, love. We’ve no more idea than you do. The spirits that communicate through me don’t seem able to talk much about the afterlife, so I don’t think we living ones are meant to know. And if you don’t know yet, maybe that’s just a new mystery for you. But then that’s life all over, isn’t it? And death, too, I suppose.”

Oliver slumped a little and nodded. “It’s just that it’s so amazingly tedious, now. No one to taunt, no one to haunt, it’s just so exhaustingly dreary!”

Frank made to clap him on the back, but then stopped when he realized that wasn’t possible. “Never mind, old son, it’ll get better. You should see if you can travel. The world’s a big place after all. Think how many theaters you can sneak into!”

“I’ve tried that. I got as far as Brampton, Ontario and I literally hit a wall. I could go no further. Like one of those force fields in a sci-fi film. It was really unnerving. I couldn’t even make it into Toronto! I tried going in the opposite direction and I got as far as Lambton Shores. I’m stuck here, boys. No world traveling for me.”

“Aw, that’s a shame, Ollie, it really is. Brampton’s got a theater, but it’s not quite Toronto, and Lambton Shores, well… There’s that playhouse in a barn, but again, not really world-class, is it? Never mind, if you’ve got to be stuck somewhere, it could be a lot worse.”

Oliver rolled his eyes at that. “Yes, well, I suppose I should be thankful I don’t have to wander the frozen wastes like Frankenstein’s monster! Look here, boys, since you can see me, how about we spend some time together, eh? I always liked you two, you know.”

Cyril and Frank looked at each other and then back at Oliver. Cyril had a dubious expression on his face as he said, “Well, I don’t know, ducky. You could be quite a bastard now and then.” Then a smile broke over his face. “But so could we, so why not? You got to promise, though, to be good to Geoffrey.”

Oliver dropped his head then.

“Don’t hold it against him too much, love," Cyril said. "It’s always been Ellen for him, you know that. That’s why you did that naughty thing in the first place. Oh, yes, I know all about it. Psychic, remember? Nearly broke poor Geoffrey’s heart, that did. You’ve got to put that behind you. It’s the only way you can find peace, if that’s what you’re really after.”

Cyril moved a little closer. “That is what you want, isn’t it? A little peace and quiet. You’ve been restless and unhappy for so long, even before you copped it. Why shouldn’t you have a little rest and relaxation, eh? Here, you come along with us down to the pub, we’ll have a little song, and you slip away whenever you want to, all right?”

It sounded suddenly quite wonderful, to lose the weight of his love off of his shoulders. To put it away, to let Geoffrey be Ellen’s now. It’s not as though he’d ever be able to have him anyway. Never be able to touch those dark, graying curls, or that strong jaw. Or run a lazy finger down that broad chest. He could look into those blue, blue eyes, but they would never look at him the way he wanted them to.

Even if he were alive, it would never happen. Accepting that was what he knew he needed to do, because at long last, he was so tired of fighting, plotting, yearning. It was time to slip away for good this time. But not the way Cyril and Frank were proposing. That was too easy. He had to do it right. Only then could he really leave.

He said goodbye to both of them, and they had the grace to look disappointed but encouraging at the same time. He disappeared and, this time, he landed just where he needed to be, next to Geoffrey as he lay on the couch, dozing, his feet in Ellen’s lap as she read a magazine. Oliver knelt down next to Geoffrey’s head, leaned forward, and brushed his ephemeral lips over Geoffrey’s. Geoffrey raised a hand in his sleep and rubbed his mouth, tucking the hand afterwards under his cheek, smiling slightly.

Oliver got as far as the driveway before he heard footsteps in the frosty grass behind him.

“I thought you’d gone.” Geoffrey’s voice was neutral, hard to read.

“I had, but apparently, it wasn’t quite time yet.” Oliver made himself turn around, to see Geoffrey standing in his overcoat in the chill of the early autumn evening.

“What about Charles?”

“Oh, he’s off. Didn’t need to hang about. He got what he wanted before he died.”

“Is that what’s keeping you here? You still don’t have what you want?”

“No, and I never will. But that’s all right. I just needed to see you one last time.”

“So, that’s it then? I think I preferred your last exit. A little less overdone.”

“Oh, fuck off, Geoffrey. You don’t get to tell me how to say goodbye. I’m the dead one. Are you and Ellen going to finally make honest people out of each other?”

“I think so. Now that my little problem is solved—“

“Oh, God, no details, please! That is not the image I want to bear off into eternity.”

Geoffrey laughed. “It would serve you right. But, hey, that’s all water under the bridge, eh?”

“Oh, is it, finally? Good. I am sorry I hurt you, Geoffrey. I meant to at the time, of course, but I am sorry now. I am glad you and Ellen are happy. Or as happy as two neurotic actor types can be.”

“Oliver. I wish you weren’t leaving, but at the same time, I’m glad you are. It will be hard, without you.”

“Well, I wish I could say that I’ll always be around, but I don’t think that’s how it works. But I think that now, I really will go.”

Suddenly it was no longer cold, or at least he was no longer feeling it. He felt a warmth coming from within as his body faded from view.

His last earthly sight was of Geoffrey, tears in his eyes, mouthing something that looked like “I love you”. Damn the man, he had to wait till now to say it? And talk about overdone! And that was Oliver’s last earthly thought.


End file.
